A Hobbit's Hope
by EverlastingTears
Summary: Bilbo had a secret. This secret was not an easy one to keep, no indeed. For this secret was not only part of who he was, but exactly who he was. For Bilbo was not Bilbo, but rather Bilba - and it is a secret she prays no one learns. AU. Lemons. (Story is being heavily edited and continued. Chapter 3 taken down for reload this weekend.)
1. Introduction

Bilbo had a secret. This secret was not an easy one to keep, no indeed. For this secret was not only part of who he was, but exactly who he was. For Bilbo was not Bilbo, but rather Bilba.

Disclaimer: The Hobbit does not belong to me, neither do any of the characters. This story is AU. I've no doubt that I am seriously screwing up the time line but as this is AU – I don't think its too much of an issue. (Unbetaed, though I am going back and trying to fix errors. If you see one, fill free to tell me!)

Light editing - 7/5/2016

Introduction.

In a place of peaceful rolling green hills there was a quaint little door set in the ground. The door was as green as the hills around it, and if you didn't know where to look it was easy to pass by. This door lead to a hole, but it wasn't a dirty hole. It was clean and cozy, and in this hole there lived a hobbit.

Bilba Baggins of Bag End was a quiet hobbit, and her name and home came with a certain amount of respectability, simply because they were Baggins. This particular morning found Bilba setting outside on her garden bench, wondering how long it would take before her cousin Lobelia came huffing and puffing up her walk to Bilba for _not_ doing the respectable thing, for sullying the good Baggins' name in her refusal to do what everyone expected.

Hobbits for all their finer points were also just a bit queer. Females never went past their coming of age without almost immediately choosing a partner and settling down. It wasn't too unusual for a male to stay single well into his midlife, until he found just the right female, then he would settle. It was different for the females of the species though. Female hobbits once they were in their tweens were driven by strong emotions and even stronger hormones pushing them to find pleasure in their mate.

Bilba had refused to do so. She may have thought about it in her tween years, even dreamed about which hobbit family to marry into to make her father proud, but all of that had changed in the Fel Winter.

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of her own name, but it wasn't Lobelia's shrill soprano trying to gain her attention. She blinked, bringing herself from her thoughts to focus on the man standing before her dressed from head to toe in shabby grey. "Gandalf!" Not a man then, not by normal means, but a wizard – her wizard, she thought. For Gandalf had been the only constant in her life for many years aside from the gossip mongers of the Shire repeating almost daily how not normal she was.

She stood and hurried to unlock her garden gate and Gandalf stepped inside, stooping to pull her into a warm hug. Had it not been for the feeling of disrespect, Bilba would have called Gandalf her father for he stepped into the roll when her own had been lost.

"Bilba," he murmured warmly into her hair. "I hope this morning finds you well."

"Oh, well indeed," she agreed eagerly. "I have my favorite wizard -"

"Oh? You know another?"

"A few," she answered seamlessly before continuing, "with me for company and even better that means no company from Lobelia!" She stepped back and grinned up at him. It was in these moments with Gandalf that she felt most like herself, perhaps even like she were a young faunt again the way that he always beamed down at her, warmth and pride in his eyes. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, quickly setting about making a breakfast. "What brings you back so early? The last I heard you expected your trip to last another month at least! Not that I'm complaining mind -"

"Bilba."

"I would never complain about your company. You know I love when you are here. I'm just merely surprised -"

"Bilba."

"But, it's just so grand for you to be back. Lobelia's been by almost every day to speak of -"

"Bilba!"

She paused, mouth open to look at him and flushed at the amusement in his gaze. She snapped her mouth shut and quickly moved his eggs and sausage to a plate for him before setting down next to him. "Sorry."

Gandalf merely gave a soft chuckle as he reached out and brushed a hand through her curls. "It's alright m'dear. Though, I suppose you might not like the reason for my early return, and you are of course free to say no but I hope you at least listen to all of my proposal."

Bilba froze slightly and frowned, nibbling on her bottom lip. "What is it?"

Gandalf took a breath. "I have in my acquaintance a certain company of dwarves. They are thirteen in number, a number that makes them uneasy -"

Bilba snorted. "Superstitious idiocies."

Gandalf gave her an amused look. "They are looking for a fourteenth member to round out their number." He held up a hand to forestall her questions. "You have not been happy here in the shire for many years Bilba. You sit in your garden with only Hamfast and Bell for company, and I cannot be here nearly as often as I would like. I know that you still have a couple of good cousins, but they aren't close by. I would ask you to think about joining this quest."

Bilba frowned at him. "Gandalf, I appreciate the offer, I do. But, a female in a group of so many males..."

"My dear child, whoever said you have to tell them you are female?" Bilba paused, drawing her lip between her teeth again. "I will be with you for a good portion of the journey. We can bind your, ah, more womanly attributes, and any questions that arise I can help you deal with. Your voice is of a low enough timber that if you resist the urge to shrill and shriek as your cousin Lobelia does, then no one should question it. They will merely assume you are soft spoken, as there is already a male in their group who has a similar voice."

She frowned into her tea cup. "What about... well... you know."

Gandalf's expression softened. "I can give you something for that as well. It won't take it away, and I don't recommend taking it all the time, but it will help for the journey." She shot him a look, mouth opened and he silenced her with narrowed eyes. "And you know I cannot offer it to you in daily life without consequences or I would if I thought for even an instant it would make your life a hair easier."

Bilba exhaled her frustrated breath slowly. "I'm not saying yes – but what quest exactly are we setting out for?"

Gandalf's face lit with a grin. "My dear Bilba – we're going to Erebor!"

If Bilba choked on her mouthful of raspberry tea Gandalf certainly was smart enough not to mention it.


	2. Chapter One

Still not mine.

Lightly edited 7/5/2016

Chapter One – It's Raining Dwarves!

Gandalf set off not long after that, and Bilba frowned thoughtfully around her home. She would need some proper male clothing. Bandages to make bindings for her breasts. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. She considered that Gandalf would bring whatever concoction he had to help with the side effects of being a female hobbit – but she doubted he would think about her actual cycles. She grabbed a piece of parchment from her desk and began to make a list of things she would need to gather on her trip through the market.

Gandalf had said he would return with the dwarves tomorrow evening, so she had a busy day ahead of her tomorrow. She went to bed that night and tried to ignore the small tendril of hope that she felt budding in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, away from her meddling relatives, she could finally find some peace.

When she woke the next morning she went straightaway to the shed and pulled out her father's old cart, knowing that there was no way she would be able to carry back everything she intended to buy that day. She was at the morning market just as they were beginning to open, and ignoring the queer looks she was receiving, began the purchases she had already planned.

Three pair of men's sturdy work pants should suffice for travel. Three tunics, each just loose enough to conceal her feminine figure if something should happen and her bindings come undone. She had a gender neutral cloak at home that would do fine enough for the journey. Next she passed into the medicinal stands and purchased enough supplies to put off her monthlies for four months. That was as long as the herbs would be good for, even dried.

"Bilba Baggins!"

Bilba froze at the harpy's cry and turned slowly, mindful of her cart behind her. "Good morning, Lobelia."

Lobelia was pointing at the herbs in Bilba's hands. "I know you hate what you are, but you can't make it just go away!" She sneered down her nose. "What are you thinking?! You'll ruin any prospects you have left!" Her expression changed. "But perhaps that is what you want?"

Bilba shook her head. Not that it wasn't a bad idea, she just doubted that it would work. Then she thought of just the thing to give Lobelia a heart attack. "I'm going to be on the road for a while, Lobelia. It's much easier to travel when one doesn't have to worry about bleeding through their clothing." And then she smirked, leaning in low she mock-whispered. "I'm going on an adventure." Straightening up she began to smile as she walked away. "Oh, but don't worry. I've already made sure that you won't have to worry about the care and upkeep of BagEnd should I perish. Have a good morning, Lobelia."

Now then, what did one feed a horde of dwarves?

By the time she returned home, her pockets were much lighter and her shoulders were straining slightly from the weight of the cart. She brought everything inside and went immediately to change. She bound her breasts tight so that no hint of feminine softness could be seen before slipping on a burgundy tunic with a pair of deep brown trousers. She twisted this way and that in the mirror before frowning. Almost. Just... She twisted her hair back into a low ponytail but still the curls gave off too much of a hint of womanliness to her. Which was almost funny considering how many times her cousins had informed her that the scar on her face took away from anything even remotely feminine about her.

It was a hideous scar. It started at her left temple and slashed down across her cheek and lips. It had taken it weeks to heal when she'd received it, and even now when she smiled that side of her lips twisted in an odd sort of way. However... now perhaps the scar would come in handy. Perhaps if she could roughen her appearance enough...

She huffed and then gave herself a nod in the mirror. It must be done then. She retrieved a set of scissors from her drawer and began by gathering a bunch of her hair to one side and cutting the majority of it off in one go. She cut her hair so that it framed her face, making her jaw look more square and making the scar stand out more prominently. It had been her experience that people, no matter what race, did not linger over long on ones facial features with such a scar, and just in case there was a hat in her mother's glory box she could take with her that would also help break up the feminine lines of her face.

Bilba was immersed in a world of simmering meats and baking sweets when a thunderous knock sounded upon her door. She frowned, glancing out the window. The sun hadn't quite started to set yet, and Gandalf had said to expect them for supper. Could something have happened? She scurried towards the door, worry filling her mind that perhaps something had happened to the wizard. She jerked the door open and was brought up short by the sight that greeted her.

So it wasn't the wizard after all. No, indeed. The dwarf before her was tall, (for his kind), bald, heavily tattooed, and down right frightful looking. "Am I the first then?" He asked as he made to step forward.

Bilba quickly blocked his path. "That depends entirely upon what you are the first of!" She replied tartly.

He blinked, looking surprised as though he had expected to simply breeze past the hobbit. His lips quirked and he gave a slight bow. "Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service master hobbit. The wizard, Gandalf, said to meet here at your... burrow?"

Bilba returned his bow with a small one of her own. "Bilbo Baggins, at your and your family's service. We call our home smials, not burrows, and to answer your first question – yes. You are the first one here, and on top of that Master _Dwarf,"_ she emphasized his race as he had done with hers before continuing. "You are early. Gandalf was supposed to tell everyone to be here for supper. That is six o'clock on the dot. Not," she glanced at the grandfather clock in her living room, "two hours early!"

"Ah, well, I suppose he may have said something along those lines..." Dwalin hedged, even as he found himself pushed into the house and his traveling cloak taken.

"Nothing for it now I suppose, but you'll just have to wait for food. Nothings ready yet. Boots off here," she stopped to point at a spot in the hall way, "and you can put your weapons wherever they're least likely to do damage." Despite her words he found himself being seated at the kitchen table with a generous chunk of cheese and meat. "That's all I have for now so you'll just have to make due while you explain to me why you are so early."

He puffed up. "I am Thorin's guard. As such I wanted to leave early and make sure that the way was clear. I made sure there would be nothing unsavory to meet my king along his journey here." And if he had also been placing discreet markers to try to keep his friend, cousin, and king from getting lost – well that was no one's business but his own. "Thanks." he grunted, gesturing to the cheese as he took a large drink of mead, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Bilba grimaced slightly before shaking her head. For the most part she ignored him after that, although she was most certainly aware of where he was in her dining room at all times. One couldn't be too careful. It was nearing to five when another knock sounded on her door. Bilba cursed as she had her hands in sticky dough she was currently patting out.

"Mother of makers!" She shoved her elbow against the kitchen window to prop it open and shoved her head outside. There was a short, slightly round, dwarf standing on the door stoop who had swung around at the sound of the window opening. "Let yourself in master dwarf. My hands are covered in dough."

And so Balin, son of Fundin, found his way into the hobbit home. Upon sight of Dwalin's boots and cloak in the entry way he quickly shed his own and hurried to where he could hear the sound of cooking. Or what sounded like a lot of pots and pans being slammed in frustration. "I am not sure if the bad manners are on my part for being a bad host, or your lots for being bad guests! Is there none among you who can tell time!?" A voice railed.

Balin stepped around the corner in time to see Dwalin staring at their host with slightly wide eyes. He took the moment to cast his eyes over the hobbit. Well fitting clothing, sturdy by the looks of them. They also seemed to be of good quality, which meant either this hobbit was quite good with needle and thread, or had enough money to buy clothing of this quality. The face was soft and almost feminine, but that softness was broken by a harsh scar that slitted across the fellow's left cheek, even across his lips.

Bilba stopped her rant as she was finally able to slide the bread into the over and remove the excess dough from her fingers. Turning to Balin she gave a perfunctory bow. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Balin, son of Fundin, at yours." He returned.

"Brother!" Dwalin suddenly exclaimed. "You've gotten shorter and wider since last we met!"

"Wider, not shorter," Balin automatically answered even as Dwalin was knocking their heads together.

Bilba stared at them in mortification. "Well if that's how dwarves greet each other, I certainly hope you don't include other races in such a greeting!" Her head ached just thinking about it.

Balin gave a surprised snort of laughter. "Certainly not. We would knock any other race senseless if we did, lad."

"Good to know," she muttered. "Supper won't be for another hour I'm afraid, though if you can find something to snack on in the pantry you are more than welcome." Before she could say another word, there came a third knock on her door. "Oh for Valar's sake!" She hurried to answer it, ripping the door open, only to have the wind taken out of her sales. "Gandalf! Thank heavens!" She gestured frantically behind her. "I already have two dwarrows taking up room in my kitchen."

Gandalf however was simply staring at her, a look of sadness and approval in his eyes as he reached out to run a hand through curls that were ever so short. "Your curls," he choked.

Bilba took a breath, allowing him his moment before shaking his hand off. "Yes yes, so very sad. It is hair. It will grow back!" Still, she gave him a moment longer before rolling her eyes. "Come on, Gandalf. You can keep Dwalin and Balin company while I finish setting up."

They both stepped into the kitchen and Gandalf was immediately greeted with cries of "Tharkun!"

Bilba snorted and shook her head as she disappeared down into the cellar. She wrestled free two kegs of ale which she then had to take up the stairs one at a time. She banged the kitchen door open causing her guests to jump and the big dwarf, Dwalin, hurried to take it from her and upon learning there was a second keg Balin was down the stairs before she could protest. She frowned at them both as she pulled out nozzles for the kegs. "I appreciate the help, truly, but you act as though I might break." She hoped they hadn't already figured out that she was female.

Balin hurried to assure her. "It's not that laddie, its just that you're, well... a bit on the petite side. It stirs our protective sides."

Bilba gave a snort. "Master Dwarf, I have been alone in this smial since I was a tween. I assure you, I can take care of myself and any guests – rare as they may be." As though to contradict her words, the bell on her door rang again. She hurried to answer it while the two brothers frowned at each other.

"Since he was a tween? He doesn't look like more than a tween now, especially with how soft his face looks!" Dwalin scoffed.

"Hush!" Balin hissed. "We know nothing of how hobbits age! Besides which, you know as well as I do that even some dwarves can look a bit girly in the features. Look at poor Ori." His apprentice was teased horribly for his soft appearance and mannerisms.

Gandalf merely sat back and listened to them with an amused smile, which faltered slightly when he heard, "Wow! That's a wicked scar!" from the entryway.

Balin and Dwalin both appeared to have heard it as well, if their winces were anything to go by. Balin let his head smack against the table. "I have tried... I have tried and tried and tried to beat subtlety into that boy's head."

There were quiet murmurs for a moment and then a slight roar. "That is my mother's glory box! Prince or not I will beat you all the way back to Ered Luin!"

Bilba reappeared with Fili and Kili at both sides, both of whom she was scowling at. Fili was looking much amused as he took a seat next to Balin while Kili slunk down next Dwalin. "Tis just a box." He muttered. Bilba shot him a murderous look as she began to take silverware and plates from the cabinets.

Gandalf cleared his throat while giving the dwarf prince his own stern look. "It is much more than 'just a box' Master Kili. Bilbos mother was quite the adventurer as well as the daughter of the Thain. That box you just attempted to wipe your feet on has quite a few precious belongings and even more memories attached to it."

Gandalf was quick to rise and help her, chattering until he saw the tenseness in her shoulder's begin to fade. The next round of door rings came as she was taking bread from the oven. She peered out the kitchen's window once more to see two more dwarves standing at her door. "Gandalf is there a reason all your dwarves cannot arrive together?" She grumped, even as she once more dusted off her hands and headed for the door. Only to find instead of two there were three. Dori introduced himself and Ori, the sons of Kori, leaving the third dwarf to frown at his back as he stepped closer.

"Nori, the not worth mentioning son of Kori, at your service, Master Baggins." And with that Nori was the first dwarf she officially liked as he had referred to her by name, rather than race.

"Please," she answered as she took his cloak. "I am master over nothing but my home. Call me Bil-Bilbo," she choked, having almost said her true name. She walked with him into the kitchen where she noticed Dori had sandwiched Ori between himself and Dwalin. Nori took a seat across the table from them, sitting beside Kili. She was just about to take a seat herself when the door rang again. And again. And then continued to ring as though someone had tied a cat to it.

"Quit abusing my door bell!" She snapped as she hurried through the hall and threw the door open.

And promptly wished that she hadn't. For apparently the dwarves outside had all been leaning against her door and the moment she swung it open they toppled in, taking her down in a tidal wave with them. All that Bilba could see was a pair of dark brown eyes staring into her own, and the curious thought of why wasn't she being squashed with all the weight on top of her. Gandalf must have heard the commotion because he was quickly there with the other dwarves helping to sort them out. As they were untangled and removed Bilba discovered the reason for her lack of utter discomfort was the dwarf who had fell directly on top of her. He had braced his hands against the floor to keep as much as their weight as possible from crushing her.

Thus, Bilba was introduced to Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bifur scrubbed his foot against the floor at her softly uttered thanks. Bofur, with his funny hat simply grinned, finding the whole thing amusing, and Bombur kept demanding to make sure that everyone was okay as he was well aware of how heavy he was thank you very much. Oin, with his healer's bag, and hearing horn loudly proclaimed that if no one was injured they all needed to shut up and move on. The large dwarf standing next to Oin just shook his head before stepping forward and bowing to Bilba.

"Gloin, son of Groin, at your service. This is my brother Oin, the company's healer, and completely deaf!"

Bilba nodded as she bowed back. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

The last dwarf left did not bow and offer his service to Bilba. His eyes scanned over her head to toe in a manner that made her want to cross her arms. "So, you are to be our fourteenth," he said at last, walking a slow circle around her. He snorted slightly. "How old are you boy?" He finally asked.

Bilba bristled, but bit her tongue and counted to three. "I am past the hobbits coming of age, if that is what you need to know."

"Sword or axe?" He then demanded.

"I prefer a bow, but I can use a sword well enough, though I need practice." She answered, seeing this question as reasonable. They would need to know if she could protect herself after all. He actually looked surprised at the answer.

"You've been on a quest before?"

Bilba hesitated. "No, not such as this." She finally answered. "As a tween I went adventuring with my – with my mother. Gandalf has made sure that I stay able to protect myself, should the need arise." And now she wondered if he hadn't known for years that this particular quest would come along.

The dwarf made a noncommittal sound before final introducing himself. "Thorin Oakenshield."

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service." She knew who he was and that as king in exile he could not offer his service. That did not stop her from offering her own however. He gaped at her for a moment and then she turned her back and walked into the kitchen.

She couldn't help the grateful look on her face when she discovered that some of the dwarves had taken it upon themselves to finish setting the table and even had sat the food out. Gandalf himself glanced up in the middle of cutting some of the meat into servable sizes. They sat and they ate and if the dwarves' complete lack of table manners bothered Bilba, she didn't say a word. She did let out a gasp though when Bifur's hood slipped back to reveal an axe embedded in his head. He glanced up at her sound and followed her gaze, reaching up to hurriedly replace his hood.

"Please, don't be alarmed," Bofur began, "he won't hurt anyone -"

Bilba cut him off sharply. "Why in the Valar's name would I think he would hurt anyone when he is clearly the one injured?!" She demanded in return and all the table fell silent to stare at her. She shifted slightly in her seat at the sudden attention. "What?"

Bifur answered her in a confusingly guttural language. Gandalf was the one who translated. "He says you're the first person of another race to ever show concern for him instead of what he might be capable of."

Bilba's eyes narrowed. "Then the other races are more foolish than I had believed, and I hope the Shire holds no bargains with any place you have been that has been so mentally challenged." She looked into Bifur's eyes as she spoke. She did not want him to feel as though they were speaking about him, rather than to him. "Do you not know Westron?"

A negative shake of the head followed by more of the unknown language. "He did at one point." Bofur now spoke. "He's the one that taught me and Bombur, actually. The axe though..." he trailed off for a moment, his eyes far away as though reliving a moment. He cleared his throat. "When he came to after the battle, he couldn't speak anything except Khuzdul."

Bilba wracked her brain but of all the books she had read she could remember none that spoke of such an injury. Bifur placed a hand on her arm and she looked up to meet his gaze. He rumbled at her, and she shot a questioning look to Bofur who gave a shake of his head. "He says you needn't worry yourself. It was a long time ago. He still has his family and his health, and there is always someone nearby who can understand him."

Bifur fell silent after that and Bilba was content to listen to the conversation around them. A pang settled in her heart at the realization that everyone in this group would have someone to go to, someone to lean on, throughout the journey. They all had family. But then, if she had family – true family - she might not even be considering going – or perhaps her mother would be convincing her father to let her go as well.

"Excuse me, Mr. Baggins? But what shall I do with my plate?" Ori's soft voice broke through her thoughts, but before she could answer Fili had jumped to his feet.

"Give it to me, Ori!" Fili cut in quickly, and before Bilba could so much as open her mouth she discovered her plates flying through the air to be juggled by most of the dwarves.

"Ex-excuse me!" Her voice went unheeded and the dwarves still seated began to make a rhythm with their silverware. "Oh dear. Could you please not do that?!"

That set off a round of song and dance and cutlery tossing that left her heart throbbing in her chest. She was almost certain that they meant no harm, and it was the only thing that kept her from exploding at the end of the song. Gandalf seemed to understand her mood for he cut across the merriment and laughter. "Perhaps a look at the map now Thorin?"

Thorin cast a distrustful look Bilba's way and Gandalf scoffed. "He is to be part of your company Thorin, you can hardly expect to keep him in the dark."

And thus, Bilba learned the fine details about Smaug and how he had taken away Erebor from the dwarves. She heard the heart sickness in Thorin's voice when he told them that their cousins of the Iron Hills would not be joining them, and she watched in utmost admiration of such foolhardy loyalty as each dwarf present claimed that no matter what they stood with their king – they would follow him to death if necessary to reclaim their home.

"It may be best this way," Bilba offered quietly into a silent moment. "Smaug, if he still lives, would no doubt hear an approaching army of dwarves... but a small company such as this? No one, certainly not a dragon, would expect such."

Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin all raised their eyes to look at her in surprise. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Really, if she was going to keep getting such reactions perhaps she should keep her thoughts to herself!

"Which brings us to our unlucky number of thirteen. Hobbit, you are to our fourteenth member to disperse any such bad luck. As such your duties will be helping to fill in whatever duty needs done whenever it needs done, be it cooking, guarding, or stealing into the flames of Smaug himself." Then Balin shoved a rolled up contract under her nose which she took into her study to go over.

As she poured over the contents of the contract, and a very nicely written one she noticed, she heard the dwarves in the other room begin to sing. As she listened to the song of a home lost she thought of all the dangers for a female hobbit on the open road. But she would not be traveling as a female, she reminded herself. She would be Bilbo, a hobbit from the Shire, accompanying a traveling party of thirteen dwarves and one wizard. Who would want to go through the trouble of hassling dwarves to bother a male hobbit? It was with this thought in mind that she signed her name at the bottom of the contract.


	3. Chapter Two

Holy cow guys! I went away for the holiday weekend and I come back to find my inbox absolutely BLOWN UP with reviews and messages. You all are awesome.

Lightly edited 7/6/2016

Chapter Two – Racial Differences

Bilba wasn't especially thrilled to learn that they would be riding ponies, a fact that Gandalf had practically giggled about when he'd seen the look on her face. "Keep laughing, old man," she growled, totally frustrated with him. "You are very aware that hobbits don't ride ponies!" If anything this only caused him to smile all the more. Except for Kili and Fili, most of the company was quiet as they geared up and saddled their ponies. She got the impression several were as disheartened by the idea of riding pony as she was. Or perhaps they just weren't morning people? Now that was a shame. She made sure to greet the sun every morning. It was one of the things she looked forward to.

"Hurry up and mount, master hobbit! We're heading out and won't wait for you."

Bilba jumped, realizing she had fallen into her contemplation, and lost track of time. Everyone else was already in their saddles. She blushed to the roots of her hair even as she frowned at Thorin. "This hobbit has a name and it is Bilbo. I would be increasingly glad if you could bother your royalness to learn it!" She chided as she jumped and managed to grab hold of the saddle horn. Wriggling, she managed to catch her foot into the stirrup and then toss her other leg over. When she finally straightened it was to find the others looking at her with amusement in their eyes. She huffed and turned her nose up. "Don't look at me like that. In case you didn't notice I'm a bit on the short side, even amongst our races." She snapped defensively.

Bifur signed something to Bofur which caused several of the dwarves to start laughing, and Bofur turned back to her with a grin. "Bifur says that you clearly need to learn its all about how you use your size, lad."

Bilba was stunned for a moment before remembering that she was portraying herself as a male. She had heard such references before, traded in teasing amongst her male cousins. Cheeks burning she replied, "I assure you – I know how to use my size just fine!"

It was to this teasing atmosphere that they finally got on the move and Bilba allowed her pony to hang towards the back of the group, curious of the interactions of the rest of the group. Thorin kept his pony at the front of the pack with Balin and Dwalin alternating their places beside him. Directly behind him were Fili and Kili, who seemed content for the moment to doze on top of their ponies. The Ri and Ur families were mixed in together, giving her the impression that they knew each other quite well. Bofur was continually making comments to draw Ori from his quiet while Bifur signed in rapid fire motion to Dori who kept up with his own verbal montage.

She found it interesting that Nori, who Dori kept giving suspicious glares, was actually the quietest of them.

Bombur was talking with Oin and turning a discreet ear in their direction she found that the old healer was asking the company's chef to keep an eye out for certain medicinal plants while he foraged for their foods of the evenings. Gloin was silent, content to keep taking a locket from his pocket and looking at the contents within.

Bilba had just opened her mouth to ask what was in the locket when Nori broke his quiet. "Don't do it."

She blinked and focused her eyes on the star headed dwarf, wondering when he had dropped back beside her. "What?"

"You're about to ask Gloin what's in his locket. The answer is a picture of his wife and son. He will bore you to tears talking about them if you ask. For our sakes, don't do it."

She blinked again and clicked her mouth shut. Then, "How did you know?"

Nori turned his head towards her and she caught a glimpse of a devious smile that tugged and teased at forgotten memories of another and left her frowning at him in confusion. "Knowing is my trade." He answered simply before scooting his pony up alongside Ori, who didn't even appear to have noticed he was gone.

Knowing is my trade, Bilba repeated in her head. Now, what was that supposed to mean?

The morning passed nicely enough for Bilba. There was laughter and songs between many of the company and they gained several looks from the smials they passed. While none of the hobbit homes were particularly open to the outsiders, there were a few who dared to call a greeting Gandalf. However, as they were passing a particular smial, a group of no less than ten children ran past them, all diving and toppling on top of one another as they careened towards the wizard.

"Mr. Gandalf! Mr. Gandalf! Fireworks Mr. Gandalf! Fireworks!" And there was no mistaking the pleading note in their voices as they begged and pleaded.

Gandalf gave a low laugh even as he shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't have any this time little ones."

There was a resounding cry of disappointment and then a shriek from inside the burrow. "What have I told you kids about leaving that disturber of the peace alone?!" A sharp voice pierced the air and Bilba's eyes widened. She'd been so content in watching the mannerisms of her companions that she had failed to pay attention to just what part of the Shire they were in. She shifted uneasily on her pony and pulled her hat lower across her face. "What are you doing in this part of the Shire, Gandalf?" Lobelia demanded as she stepped out onto the path, her eyes traveling over the dwarves. "And with such a group of ruffians as well."

The dwarrows took exception to being called ruffians, except Dwalin, Nori, and Bifur, who all seemed to puff up and do their best to glower at the woman and look intimidating.

Gandalf however frowned at her. "One shouldn't judge those they do not know. You might just one day insult a king."

Lobelia scoffed. "If a king or prince associated with you – Valar bless their stupidity! Anyone attracted so such a nuisance should be cast down from their position!" She didn't seem aware of the way the entire company seemed to tense.

Bilba couldn't help herself. "And what of you, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins? You speak of stupidity and casting down – but have you not just insulted our own Thain?" Despite wanting nothing more than to continue on without interruption, she found herself sliding from her pony and storming up into Lobelia's face. "Our Thain who is friends with Gandalf, our Thain who openly welcomes the wizard to his home – are you questioning _our_ Thain, Lobelia?" She lowered her voice. "I find myself in a very unique position, Lobelia. All I need do is tell the wizard to wait for me at Bree and I can stop in at the Great Smials. Perhaps have a word with Grandfather Took?"

Lobelia gulped and paled while the children and dwarrows all stared at the two of them. Lobelia's eyes darted from Bilba to the dwarrows to Gandalf and back again. Finally her face settled for a too sweet smile. "Well then, I hope this adventure of yours is just as _fortunate_ as the last time you left."

Bilba felt the blood drain from her face at the same time a rage lit inside her. "You know nothing of life outside this village, Lobelia." She snarled. "If you were so hateful to Marigold then it is no wonder -"

"Don't you dare speak her name!"

"I hope your children learn their manners from someone other than you, Lobelia. T'would be a pity for Hobbiton to be infested with so many vermin!" She stormed back to her pony and was very grateful when the princes gave her a lift up. Without looking at any of them she urged her pony on a head.

It was due to this that she missed Gandalf turning back to Lobelia, his voice having such a chill that even the dwarrows shivered. "You should be very careful, Lobelia, of insulting those who hold the Valar's ears. You might find very unpleasant things start to happen." And it did not go unnoticed as he finished this statement that the grass in her yard seemed to wilt, the flowers around them drooped, and there was an unearthly racket as the door to the smial fell right off its hinge.

The dwarrows all stared at Gandalf and Fili and Kili shuffled their ponies closer together. "We're never pissing him off." They muttered in unison.

It was after they caught up to Bilba that Dori voiced a question. "Do all hobbit families have so many children?"

Bilba's tone was matter of fact, clearly showing she was still harassed by the other hobbit's words. "Hobbits generally have three to six children, but its not terribly uncommon to have more. Lobelia has ten and there is a cousin who has twelve."

"Three to twelve," Gloin repeated, wonder in his voice.

"Is it not the same for dwarves?" She asked.

Several heads shook in the negative and she saw more than one sad look amongst her companions. "We are lucky to have one or two." It was Balin who finally answered. "Our men outnumber our women two to one, and so many of our women are barren that they choose to focus on their trade rather than take a husband and try for a child." He paused for a long moment. "Our numbers were already dwindling long before the dragon came, but the trauma of the escape was especially hard on our women. Even once we were settled in Ered Luin, it took so long to get us on our feet, for our numbers to not be starving..." He trailed off for a long moment. "It is one reason we hope to reclaim the mountain. A couple of our healers think that if we can get our people spread back out instead of all but living on top of each other, that our numbers may begin to come back up again."

"It does not help either that many of our dwarves who were just coming into their courting age were lost in the fight against Smaug, and then later in the halls of Khazad-dum." Dwalin continued.

"Has their not been another generation between now and then?" Bilba asked curiously.

Fili answered. "That would be my and Kili's peers. We are just entering the age to be courting. Bofur and Nori are about a decade ahead of us, and Ori will be old enough to court next year. It also does not help that it is so very hard to find your One."

Bilba blinked. "I'm sorry, but your one what?"

Fili actually pulled up short as he turned in his saddle to stare at her. "You don't have One's?" And his voice was so horror stricken that it pulled a good portion of the rest of the company's attention as well.

"Perhaps you could explain to me what a One is?"

"A One Mr. Baggins, is what we call our loves." Dori's voice filtered down the line. "They are the one who gives us peace in turmoil. Refuge from life."

"When they step in the room you stop breathing," Gloin continued where Dori's trailed off. "You could be in a room with a hundred fire breathers and not notice."

"One's are the other half of a dwarrow's soul," Bofur spoke now from her side. "They are the one perfect being that Mahal put here, just for us."

"Yes, the only problem is that knowing you have a One doesn't guarantee you will get to meet them," Nori's voice broke in. "They could be of a different race, or on an entirely different part of Middle Earth. While you can technically marry someone who isn't your One, you'll always know that the one meant for you is still out there. They say it eats at you."

"Have any of you met your One's then?" Bilba asked.

"Only Gloin and Bombur are married."And Bilba noted that didn't quite actually answer her question. She glanced curiously at Ori who had answered and followed his gaze to Dwalin. She fought hard to keep the surprise off her face, having no doubt Dori would never let the poor boy out of his sight if he knew that.

"No, I can honestly say hobbits have nothing like that." She hesitated to continue, then reminded herself that as far as the dwarrows were concerned this was not mixed company. "Hobbit lasses go through a sort of maturing process in their tweens... Their bodies basically demand a proper mate. Some hobbits are lucky enough to get to pick their mates, fall in love, others – the ones in higher society – are usually matched with someone of equal rank or someone who will make a good business alliance." Several of the dwarves were frowning at this. "Whoever a lass lays with for the first time, that is who she will marry."

She saw several of the dwarrows frowning. "Your women aren't allowed to go out among the men and well, find one that matched them?" Fili questioned slowly. "What if the one chosen for her isn't a match?"

Bilba shrugged slightly. "Like I said, we don't have Ones. But if you mean more generally, most hobbits believe that spouses don't really even have to like each other. So long as he provides for her and she does her wifely duties... what else matters?" Several of the dwarves muttered their discontent at this and she smirked suddenly, remembering a tale from her youth. "That is not to say that love does not exist with hobbits, and that hobbits have not found ways to be together. My grandparents for instance were so in love, swore they knew the moment they saw each other that they were in love, that my grandfather snuck into my grandmother's room the night before her betrothal party and claimed her." She grinned a little. "And this is why hobbit lasses are never left alone."

"What do you mean maturing process?" Ori asked curiously, back tracking slightly.

Bilba had no idea how to answer that and glanced over at Gandalf. He smirked at her and turned to Ori with a wink. Leaning in conspiratorially he mock-whispered, "Think dwarves on elven mead. Only a hobbit lass will continue to be, well... aroused until she goes through the bonding ceremony."

Ori's entire face went red and he choked and spluttered. Dori chastised Gandalf for saying such a thing to his innocent brother. Fili however was not done with his curiosity. "I've seen a couple of hobbits in men's towns, brokering deals and such. I've never seen a female though?"

Gandalf hesitated, glancing slightly toward Bilba. She gave no answer though, afraid to open her mouth for fear of what she might say by accident. Gandalf drew a long draw from his pipe before answering. "The change that female hobbits go through has a very peculiar effect on the race of Men, especially those of less than moral character. They become like a hound chasing a scent, and won't stop. If a young, unclaimed female were to be caught out... There has been more than one incident of them being stolen and then sold into brothels. The last was two hobbit lasses who were stolen together."

Every dwarf in the company froze on their ponies and then turned to stare at Gandalf with expressions of horror on their face. "Gandalf," Thorin half spluttered, "are you saying that they take those girls and – and _rape them?_ " He demanded, horror and righteous indignation flaring in his eyes.

"Yes," and he could have left it at that only he seemed to steal himself before plowing on. "Even if a hobbit lass were to say no, if she were taken during the time that her body was demanding she find a mate, her body would take pleasure from the act of mating... so even though mentally she doesn't want it, her body is demanding more... Survivors are often as scarred mentally as they are physically." The group fell silent, digesting this information.

It was Bifur who broke the silence looking at the hobbit as he spoke angrily. She looked to Gandalf for a translation, but he was already answering the dwarf. "No, Bifur. Hobbits are a gentle people. They don't know how to treat the wounds of such an attack. A survivor would be expected to... well to move on with life."

"Now see here," Oin's voice cut in, "Are you saying Mister Gandalf, that they expect the girls to just go on as though it never happened?"

"Yes." Bilba answered instead, her voice pitched low. She didn't raise her eyes from her pony's mane. "If a girl were to make it back to Hobbiton after such an event, she would be treated to a hot bath, scrubbed clean, and then sent back to her home. Her family would set about finding her a match quickly, and then they would send her off to her bridal bed. No one would talk about it, not to her at least, but everyone would know."

Oin wouldn't let it go, his healer's knowledge warring with what was apparently a very backward culture. "And what if the lass wasn't able to simply go on about her life?" He demanded.

Bilba hesitated. "Female hobbits have one job and one job only – the further continuance of the hobbit population. If a hobbitess were unable to do this, she would be ostracized."

"And you're okay with this? That your females are treated as though they have no brain in their head to process the pain they've just been through?" Thorin demanded.

Bilba finally looked up, meeting his glare with one of her own, her eyes iced over. "Don't you dare put words in my mouth Thorin Oakenshield. I never said that. Its just the way it is. The elders are foolish in their belief that life simply goes on."

Gandalf gently cleared his throat. "Careful, Bilbo. One of those elders is your grandfather after all."

"Yes well, that didn't stop him from marrying off Marigold so soon after she came back, did it? Straight to her marriage bed in tears and tatters!" Wet shining eyes the color of lavender flashed before her eyes. "If he had waited, if he had listened to you, to me, to mum or da – but no the deal was already struck so he couldn't wait, could he? And now poor Mari can't even come back to Hobbiton. For what, Gandalf? The pride of a family." She spat angrily.

The dwarrows shifted uncomfortably as Bilba railed at the wizard until she seemed to run out of breath. By the time that Bilba was calm enough to acknowledge her lack of composure in front of the company the shadows had grown long and Thorin was calling a halt to the day's journey. Dwarves and wizard alike gratefully slipped from their saddles but Bilba shifted her weight back and forth, unwilling to call for help to get down.

Eventually she managed to slide her short legs free of the stirrups and slide off to the left side. Without her foot in the stirrup though there was nothing to help her down and she dropped unceremoniously to the ground. She thought for a moment that her legs would hold her and then they turned to limp noodles, refusing her weight and dropping her on her backside. The dwarves, apparently not entirely unaware of her, snickered and guffawed amongst themselves.

A hand appeared in front of her face, and still frowning, she allowed Gloin to pull her to her feet. She stood stiffly for a long moment, waiting to make sure her legs would accept her own weight this time. "First time ridin'?"

"The first time since I was a tween in any case."

Gloin winced in sympathy. "You'll want to ask Oin for some of his ointment then. You don't want saddle sores."

"I'll do that as soon as I see to my pony." She promised, having the saddle half off already. After she was finished however she realized that Bombur was still collecting herbs for their supper while Fili and Kili were off hunting. She hobbled her way over to help him, grabbing extra firewood as she went. By the time they had brought the fire up to a nice heat and the pot was just beginning to boil, Fii and Kili returned with skinned rabbits.

She took comfort in the fact that she was not the only one limping and wincing as she shifted on her log, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. It was nice though, she supposed, to be sitting around a fire with a group of, perhaps not friends, but acquaintances who weren't glaring at her. If the dwarves weren't all that inclines to involve her in the discussions that was fine. She couldn't really blame them after the discussion earlier in the day.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bilbo?" As though to directly conflict with her thoughts, she heard Bofur's brogue speak from somewhere close by. Looking up she found both Bifur and Bofur standing in front of her and she leaned back to be able to peer up at them. "Bif' noticed that yer hats got some symbols round the edges, and we was wonderin' what they mean." He explained.

She noticed Ori looking their way curiously, the ever present scroll already on his lap, quill poised as he waited for an answer. She snorted a little as she took it off and twirled the hat around her fingers for a moment. "Hobbits have this queer little need to quantify their lives. Most are family symbols. Sometimes a trade. An important occasion. Hobbits in higher society use it for one upmanship codswallop. A bunch of my daddy was this and my great grandfather was that." She began to point out different signs. "These are the symbols for my mother and father – Belladonna and Bungo. The staff above my mother's name shows a daughter of the Thain. The ivy leaves mean that she was favored. The primrose next to my father means that the Baggins' family is one of the first families in the Shire."

Bofur stopped her. "Favored daughter? Did he have favorites among his kids?"

Gandalf snorted into his beard. "Belladonna could have rode naked through all of Hobbiton and her father wouldn't have batted an eye. Why, I remember a time when -"

"Very possibly," Bilba cut across Gandalf, having no doubt a story of her mother's youth was forth coming. "however in this instance favored referred to the fact that my mother was a possibility for Thain."

"I heard that word several times today, Mr. Baggins. What does it mean?" Balin queried from where he was peering over Ori's shoulder at a furiously moving quill.

Bilba hesitated, cocking her head to the side as she looked to Gandalf, trying to think of the best way to explain. "The thain is the Shire's shepherd I suppose. Business decisions are brought to him. Negotiations amongst other towns and such. Marriage proposals. Disputes among neighbors. The thain is the one who has everyone's best interests in mind."

"And this thain would be your grandfather? The same one who earlier you claimed to be foolish after defending him to that harpy?" Thorin asked.

She was quiet for a moment. "Make no mistake. When it comes to his people my grandfather will do anything to see that hobbits continue to prosper, even if he has to step over his family to do it."

"A thain sounds like another name for a king. Wouldn't that make you something of a prince?" Kili noted and they were all looking at her curiously now, sizing her up.

She scowled at them and picked her hat back up, wondering when she had dropped it. She pointed to a symbol in crimson red. "See this symbol? It means the thain, in his infinite wisdom, decided to start grooming me for his position." She waited five seconds. "My grandmother dyed it bright red the night I refused. So you can take any thoughts of me being a prince and politely shove them."

Bifur took the hat from her hands and spun it slowly, tracing his fingers over the symbols lightly. "Ya don't seem to have much regard for high society," Bofur noted.

Bilba stared for a long moment into the fire, her mind caught in the past before she turned to the cousins. "What does it matter what blood someone has? Being related to the thain doesn't make me a bad or good person just as being Thorin's nephews doesn't make Fili and Kili good or bad. The fact that they are who they are is what makes them good."

It was later, after all the company had fallen asleep, that Bifur approached the wizard. Gandalf looked up from where he was watching their camp and cocked an eyebrow in question. _**"What the she-devil said to Bilbo about leaving, what did it mean?"**_

Gandalf hesitated. _**"Bilbo was with a group of hobbits shopping when his cousin Marigold was taken. He blames himself for not being able to stop the Men from taking her."**_

" _ **How old?"**_

" _ **Twenty-two."**_

Bifur's eyebrows shot up and he glanced over towards the hobbit. To have been so young... His heart ached.


	4. Chapter Three

So this is my replacement for Chapter Three. It starts out the same, but this chapter turns very different as we stop in Bree rather than meeting our friendly trolls who only want to eat you.

Chapter Three – To Bree

 _ _She staggered as she ran through the streets. Her skirts were torn and she'd lost sight of Marigold ages ago. She could still hear the men behind her, still there, still chasing. Why weren't they giving up?! She was grabbed suddenly, a hand over her mouth as she was yanked behind a door. Her scream muffled under the thick hand.__

 _"_ _ _Shhhhh. Shhhh now lass. It's a'ight. Listen."__

 _ _She heard the men's footsteps run past, angry threats and garbled cursing. She stood trembling, her back to the door, as the hand was removed from her mouth and a lamp was lit. Her eyes darted to the corner when she heard a shuffle and the relief of seeing an equally wide-eyed Marigold staring back at her caused her knees to cave. She burst into hysterical sobs that had their rescuer raking fingers through her hair as he tried to piece together what he had stumbled across.__

Bilba jolted awake and groaned, reaching up to wipe the wetness from her face automatically. Only the coals still burned from the fire. She looked around in the predawn light, noting that she and the guard were the only ones awake. She stood stiffly and limped her way over, not even sure of who she was seeing in the gray light. She dropped gracelessly to the ground in front of them and moaned.

Gloin's coarse chuckle greeted her ears. "Shoulda asked me brother for some ointment," he said at last.

"Meant to." She answered. "Got distracted."

He watched curiously as she fiddled in her pouch before grabbing a long stick from the ground next to her. "What are ya doing?"

Bilba grinned in answer as she lay the stick across her lap and began tying a string to it. "What I intend to do, Master Gloin, is go catch some breakfast. Any hobbit worth his salt can fish his toes off and I, dear sir, am certainly worth my salt! Plus, we're still in the Shire, so I know all the good spots." She was off before Gloin could dissuade her, humming as she heard the sound of water growing closer.

She settled into a spot on the creek bank, her line cast toward the shallows. She sang quietly as she began to see the sky brightening.

 ** **I am Yavanna's child****

 ** **Bride of the smith She'll always be****

 ** **She holds me close in times of trial****

 ** **Brings me peace when I'm on my knees****

 ** **Born of the fields and woodland flowers****

 ** **She gave us life straight from her dreams****

 ** **With loving hands and fertile powers****

 ** **We make our homes and gardens sing****

 ** **To give our gifts to all the Valar****

 ** **But none so great as the Mother Green****

 ** **That we should live to bring her honor****

 ** **By cherishing life and love and peace****

As she sang she gathered up a few berries, flowers, and grass from around her. She placed them in a small circle of pebbles pulled from her pouch. "It is not much sweet Yavannah, but I bring you this humble offering this morning in search of peace. I fear the places we will go and see. I fear we will find Men or worse, Men will find me. I... I think though, that even if they knew, there are some of the dwarves who would protect me? Your husband has made a strong people to have survived the dragon and still want to try again. I... I hope that by the end of this I may call some of them my friends Mother Yavannah." She allowed her voice to trail off, suddenly overwhelmed by just how lonely she had become over the past years that her heart ached with the question of whether or not they would become her friends. She swallowed hard around the sudden lump in her throat and went to check her line, not surprised to find it already bobbing along.

She pulled in five fish of good size in no time at all, and as she turned to head back to camp she notice that where her offering had been there now stood a brilliant pink cosmos. She smiled as she retrieved her pebbles, placing them in her pouch once more.

She didn't see the two figures standing in the trees. "My children may be physically strong, my love, but yours are astounding. For her to have gone through what she did and then still be willing to come do this..."

The female nodded, her hand in his. "I worry for her though. The trials they will face on this quest will not be easy, and some of hers will be the hardest of them all."

* * *

"Where has that dratted hobbit gotten off to?" Thorin demanded as he did a quick head count. The sky was just barely light, how could he have gone anywhere? He turned to glare at Gloin, but Gloin, being used to Thorin's temperament merely lifted an eyebrow.

"Fishing."

"And a fine morning it is for fishing, too!" Bilba called as she stepped into camp.

Bombur gave an excited shout as he took the fish from her, earning him a grin.

"Hobbit, you do not wander off!" Thorin began.

Bilba turned to him with a glare. "I am not one of your subjects, Thorin. I am a hobbit who has agreed to come on this quest for no other reason than to help you! I have no use for gold or treasure! I have no use for going down in poems and sonnets! I am here to help a bunch of dwarves get their home back – and this morning I took it on my own charge to get us fish for breakfast so that we may extend our supplies as much as possible!"

They glared at each other until one of the other dwarrow began to laugh. Bifur was pointing at them and gesturing to Oin who snorted. "He says ya better watch out lad. You've only been around a few days and you're already picking up our hardheadedness."

The tension dissolved into snickers amongst the other dwarves and Bilba shook her head. It was a quick breakfast, and as they began to break apart camp Bilba was glad to note that there was still fish left over. She was trying to figure out how her short arms were going to get the saddle back onto her pony's back when a shadow fell over her and the saddle was taken from her arms.

Deft fingers quickly cinched it into place before Bifur turned and smiled at her. Bilba scowled a little and crossed her arms. "Well I could do that as well if I could reach it!" She said, trying to make the playfulness plain in her voice.

Bifur grinned and handed her a small vial. She looked at it curiously, head tilted. He gestured from her pony to her to Oin. "Oh! For the saddle sores?" He nodded and made a grimacing face, feigning walking around with his legs splayed apart. Bilba burst into laughter and punched his arm. "I have not been that bad!" She declared. He snorted and shrugged, impishness alight in his eyes.

It was after they set out that morning that Bofur dropped back from his brother and his pony fell into step beside hers. "Thank ye."

She blinked, looking up from her hat which she was adding a new symbol to. "Whatever for?"

He nodded his head in Bifur's direction. "For being kind to him."

She twirled her needle between her fingers for a moment, trying to think what to say. "I must tell you honestly Master Bofur, how I treat Bifur is no kindness. It saddens my heart that your family has grown so use to negative reactions that you view decency as kindness. I have no reason to treat Bifur any differently. It's clear that he understands anything I say to him, and while I wish I could understand what he says, he manages well enough to get his point across either through a translator or his own gestures."

They rode for awhile in companionable silence, and if she noticed when Bifur and Bombur drifted back so she was included in their group she chose not to say anything, simply glad for the company. It was a comfortable group that they settled into, occasionally speaking but often just riding in silence, the four of them lost in their own thoughts. Perhaps this journey wouldn't be so bad after all.

She was cursing that thought by the very next day.

"So, we mix a bit of honeysuckle leaves in with the willow bark, and it helps to make the tea more palatable. Especially if it needs to be taken by a young one. Or, just someone stubborn."

Dori had caught her heating up a bit of water that morning to make tea, and he had latched onto the realization that there was another in the group who enjoyed the drink as much as he himself did. Bilba, for her part, was amused that she and Dori had been discussing teas for the better part of the morning, and somehow Oin had drifted towards them, his ear horn already out and ready. The conversation had then turned towards more medicinal teas. Bilba suspected the healer was trying to suss out what differences there may be in hobbit and dwarrow healing, because Valar forbid he ask directly.

Although, since Bilba's answers to the last friendly questions put to her hadn't exactly been polite, she couldn't say that she blamed them. Not really anyways. Her answers had been truthful, but perhaps a bit too blunt.

"How do you know so much about medicinal teas, Master Baggins? If you don't mind an ol' healer asking."

"Please," Bilba repeated, "it's Bilbo, really. I've a love for reading, and for a time I had thought to perhaps be a healer for the shire, so I had done quite a bit of studying." She had in fact already had an apprenticeship sat up with the elves of Rivendell, before everything had gone so horribly awry.

Oin was about to say something else when a comment from the front of the party startled her so badly that she nearly jerked from her saddle.

"We should reach Bree by tomorrow's eve. We'll stay for the evening and then first light we'll gather more supplies and be on our way."

Her hands clenched on the reins even as her pony fell back. Oin and Dori continued their conversation, assuming she'd lost interest. Her pony fell into step beside Gandalf's horse and she cast him a venomous look.

"Did you know?" She hissed.

He frowned at her. "Did I know what?"

"That we're stopping in Bree." Her hiss grew lower, more frustrated.

Gandalf's brows drew closer together in answer and he shook his head. "No. I did not know. It was definitely not in our plans." He rode to the front to speak with Thorin, leaving Bilba to her own thoughts which rang loudly in her ears.

She was unaware of the deep frown marring her face, and her mood was unpleasant for the rest of the day, though she did her best not to snap or snarl at anyone. When they halted for camp she slid gratefully to the ground, her legs holding her weight on this third day of riding. They camped close to the river that night and Bilba grabbed her line from her bag, stalking off to where she could hear the water running.

She heard the footsteps behind her before Gandalf's voice even reached her ears. "I am sorry, my dear Bilbo. It would seem that a few thing were forgotten from the supply list. We have no choice but to stop."

Bilba bit back a moan of dismay, recasting her line again. "Gandalf... What are we... I can't... Big Folk!" She gasped the name for men out on a wheeze and Gandalf's hands came down to rest on her shoulders, murmuring gently as he spoke soothing words in her ear.

The bushes rattled behind them and Bofur's brogue brushed through the clearing. "Sorry, Mister Gandalf sir, but supper's done now, and Thorin wants everyone back ta camp."

Gandalf gave a long suffering sigh. "Thank you, Bofur, but you may tell Thorin Oakenshield that he should know better than to rush a wizard. I will be there, when I choose to be there, and since I currently choose to have a conversation with the company's hobbit, we may both be a few moments."

Bofur grinned. Thorin wouldn't like being told that, but it would do the exiled king some good to have the wizard remind him not everyone was at his beck and call. He snickered into his whiskers as he made his way back to camp, whistling happily.

Bilba let her head fall forward into her hands, fingers twisting tight into the short curls. Gandalf set beside her on the ground, fingers gently uncurling her own. "Nothing will happen. No one will know. All will be well," he promised.

They returned to the camp fishless, which was no real surprise given Bilba's current state of mind. She kept recasting her line every few seconds, unable to focus. She ate her serving of food and slipped off to her bedroll without so much as word, missing the look of concern the family Ur sent her way. Gandalf didn't miss it, however, and gently shook his head to them.

Sleep that night was even worse than the first. It was slow to come and once it arrived there was no peace or restoration found that night.

 _Bilba laughed as she ran a few stalls in front of their group, her skirts gayly dancing about her feet as she dragged Marigold along with her. She could hear her cousin's laughter as they both oohed over a brilliant bolt of rose red fabric. Her eyes had then been caught by the shimmering green one and she let out a squeal. "Oh, I've never seen such richly colored fabrics, cousin!"_

 _They stood at that stall oohing and aahing over the wide variety of colors, laughing and giggling over pattern ideas, until Marigold looked up._

" _Uh oh." She breathed._

 _Bilba glanced up too and then frowned. Their group was not in sight. Automatically, she grabbed Mari's hand. "It'll be all right, Mari. We just have to find them is all."_

 _She stepped away from the stall and everything went black. The lanterns all plunged into darkness and the stalls seemed to vanish into the sudden shadows. Marigold pressed up against her side, shaking from head to toe. Men suddenly loomed up in front of them. "We'll show you the way, my little beauties," the one promised with an oil slick voice._

 _Bilba let out a scream as a hand wrapped around her throat, tossing her and Marigold in the cage with delighted laughter. The screams just kept coming._

Bilba jolted awake, instinctively cramming her fist against her lips as she fought back a scream. She lay there for a long moment, chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. It was still dark, no sign of the sun yet to rise as she staggered to her feet, taking her pack with her. Her eyes darted til they landed on Nori who sat at the edge of the camp.

"I'm going to the river," she murmured, voice pitched low so as not to wake anyone else. "Night fishing."

He arched an eyebrow, but nodded. "So long as ye scream when the beasties try ta eat ye."

She snorted slightly. "There are no beasties here except for you dwarrow, Master Nori."

Nori's answer was a grin.

As soon as she was out of the camp she broke into a run. Her pack was dropped at the edge of the river and then she plunged in still fully dressed. She came up with a gasp, the cold water wiping away any lingering remnant of her nightmares with the pure shock it gave to her system. Trousers and tunic weighed heavily around her til she waded back close enough for her feet to touch bottom. She drifted back until her bottom touched the ground and then she pulled her knees to her chest and simply buried her face against her knees.

She was no stranger to the nightmares. She simply wished the reason for such a vicious one wasn't looming in front of in just a few hours. "It's just one town," she whispered to herself. "It's just one town. I can do this."

There came the sound of running feet, a laughing shout, and then something burst through the trees only to sore into the water a few feet away from her. She spluttered as a fresh wave of water was doused over her head and Bifur's head popped up out of the lake. She heard a laugh and swung her gaze to see Bofur making his way more calmly to the sandy beach. Bifur said something and Bofur momentarily frowned as his own gaze game to rest on her. She blushed and jerked her gaze away as the two moved closer to her.

Bofur laughed a little as he sat down behind her to pull his boots off. "I donna think that's the way yer supposed to do it, lad!" He cackled, gesturing to Bilbo's soaked clothing as he began to strip his own.

She choked slightly averting her gaze as she scrambled up and out of the water. "Yes, well... Shireling's don't bathe in front of others, and I figured it wouldn't be long before one of you came bursting through." She forced a smirk across her lips. "As you've so obviously proven. Shouldn't you still be asleep?" She demanded as she grabbed her dry clothes and moved off into the trees.

"Nah. Bif' taught me to appreciate a good bath whenever there's a chance."

She snorted, struggling to pull the sodden clothing off her skin before it finally dropped like an over used sponge to the ground. She dried briskly, thankful that the night sky had not yet began to lighten. "You mean there are those of you who actually enjoy bathing?" She mock gasped, poking her head out to stare at the two.

Bifur let out a rolling laugh, pointing at Bofur as he grunted in Khuzdul. Bofur's answer was to scowl. "Oi, I was na that bad!"

Bilba let out a grunt as she stumbled over a tree root and landed on her side, still trying to wiggle her pants up her thighs as she cursed in Sindarin. When she got back to her feet both Bifur and Bofur were looking in her general direction with startled expressions. "What?" She growled.

A slow smile curled Bifur's lips as he rumbled at her. Bofur grinned devilishly. "Bifur says he knows just enough elfish to know them weren't pretty words a hobbit gentleman should be using."

Bilba huffed and rolled her eyes at the two of them as she strode back towards camp, hanging her pants and tunic over a nearby tree.

Back in the riverbed the two cousins slowly washed off. "Bifur... did ye see?"

There was a firm nod in agreement. **"Do not mention it. I doubt Bilbo would appreciate it."**

Bofur was quiet before slowly agreeing. Even among the dwarrow who often took great pride in their scars, whip marks were rarely discussed, and that was certainly what they had seen splayed across the back of Bilbo's thighs.


End file.
